


Christmas At The Jones'

by lorannah



Category: The Night Before Christmas - Moore
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorannah/pseuds/lorannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santa is having a bad Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas At The Jones'

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house  
Not a creature was stirring not even a mouse  
The Jones’ asleep for once did not mutter  
And their brand new gas fire gave barely a chutter

Up on the roof He was already there  
Preparing to descend with the greatest of care  
Cursing the start of the early morn mist  
This family was last on a very long list

His beard was all sooty and his red coat was torn  
The look on his face, unseasonally forlorn  
Beside him tired reindeers stood steaming  
Even poor Rudolph was no longer beaming

He glanced at the chimney and gave it a poke  
And smiled at once for the complete lack of smoke  
No fire had been lit, perhaps the families were learning  
Though his bottom was still sore from the last fifteen burnings

At last satisfied and hefting his sack  
With a last little groan for his poor aching back  
Taking a breath, his eyes shut not to see  
He took one giant step down into the chimney

Rushing down fast, all going well  
He hit something hard with a loud ringing knell  
And trapped in his tomb of mortar and stone  
Dear old Saint Nick gave out a low moan

_“I’m all wedged in tight with my foot up my ass  
_   
_Something in this chimney just won’t let me pass  
_   
_Nothing will help, no dieting will do  
_   
_Even much thinner there’s no way down this floo”_

Wriggling his hand to a quite private spot  
He felt on his hip for something still hot  
And holding the gun up in to the air  
He let off a soaring, brightly lit flare

The support team of elves heaved a big sigh  
Would nothing be the end of this stupid fat guy  
This was the five thousandth chimney he’d got stuck in that night  
And he left it to them to put everything right

Again and again they’d calmly explained  
That on Christmas Eve if he’d only refrain  
They could get the job done in half the time that he took  
With brand spanking new methods right out of a book

They’d leave out the chimneys, no more burning on fires  
And modern machines would end stuck reindeers on church spires  
Handy little tools could open doors real quick  
And with all the elves helping it’d be done in a tick

With a merciless chuckle, he’d reply with a grin  
“You don’t understand that’s not the style of the thing  
Gadgets and gizmos aren’t the way to kids hearts  
It’s not just a job, it’s playing a part”

Then that would be that, for he was the boss  
And after all, they would think, it was really his loss  
Annoying though it was, as in the end his elf staff  
Were the ones putting in the really hard graft

So they lowered down the hooks and he secured them in place  
And settling themselves down against a tough, sturdy brace  
They heaved and they hoved, but they were all out of luck  
For alack, the poor fellas foot had got stuck

With much grunting and groaning and mutterings of pain  
And with the reindeers roped in to take up the strain  
Then they all pulled together until at last with a pop  
He shot from the chimney like a red, spinning top

He dropped to the roof with a snow shaking thump  
And climbed to his feet rubbing his now painful rump  
Looking down at his sock and wriggling his toe  
He thought sadly of the boot left down below

With one final sigh he turned to the head of the team  
Ignoring the familiar ‘I told you so’ beam  
_“Get the stuff together; we’ll head down to the ground  
__We’ll find some way in if we just look around”_

Trying the front door he found it still locked  
The eager elves with their burglary kits, well stocked  
Surrounded the door with a rattling of tins  
Until Santa exploded _“How many times? We’re not breaking in”_

Escaping the whining he looked round the house  
But could find no entry for much more than a mouse  
Until finally he spotted with a wide spreading grin  
A bathroom window ajar that just might let him in 

Throwing his sack in before him, he climbed through the frame  
But could not get much further and filling with shame  
He wriggled a little and gave out a short yelp  
_“Would some of you sods come and give me some help”_

Ignoring the giggling and a quiet elf mutter  
_“With a turkey this big we’ll need extra butter”  
_With them pushing behind he pulled himself through  
And rescued his wet fur lined hat from the loo

He limped to the living room, still slightly damp  
And feeling his way switched on all the lamps  
Presents were piled under the glittering tree  
And on the mantelpiece stood mince pies and sherry

He guzzled them down with no sign of delight  
Trying to ignore his poor stomachs plight  
For mountains of pies and gallons of sherry  
Did little to keep the grumbling thing merry

Spotting the stockings, both needing filling  
In mere moments it was done, the gifts over spilling  
He smiled to himself for the job was well done  
And thanked one and all, for it was a year till the next one

He was weary and tired from a night far too long  
And with one last look round it was time to be gone  
But spotting the gas fire he could barely resist  
And taking a breath he balled up his fists

With mutterings of tradition and long damaged glory  
He descended on the thing all fire and hell fury  
With a crashing and clanking and a popping of bolts  
The fire was a mess before he came to a halt

And standing there amid the wreck and the ruin  
The tree fallen over and the presents all strewn  
The glittering wreckage smoking it’s last  
Until the life of the gas fire was finally past

Old Santa was filled with feelings of shame  
Wondering how he could even start to explain  
When suddenly outside the darkness was gone  
For through all the windows a bright light was shone

And an echoing voice from above filled the air  
With trembling might it gave Santa a scare  
_“Put your hands in the air so we can all see 'em  
__We’ve got you well covered so no fighting chum”_

With pants slightly damp and his hands to the sky  
Wrecked with trepidation as the voice from on high  
Stalked into the room with his gun to his chest  
The strong, sturdy form of police Sergeant Hest

"_Please Sir”_ said Santa _“I don’t understand  
__I’m delivering presents to kids through the land”  
_Sergeant Hest answered with a laugh like a bark  
_“Look son, you’re not the first to try the __Christmas Eve__ stealing lark”_

_“It’ll go better for you if you don’t treat us like fools  
_   
_Both you know and I know you’ve broken the rules  
_   
_But if you don’t understand well let’s just take a look  
_   
_I’ve got it all written down in my little notebook”_

_“There’s causing a disturbance with all the banging about  
_   
_You woke up the family so they gave us a shout  
_   
_Breaking and entering is next in the list  
_   
_And by the smell of your breath you’re totally pissed”_

Standing in shock with his mouth to the floor  
As allegation after allegation continued to pour  
There was stealing the food and nicking the drink  
And Santa in anger turned slightly pink

Then there came the big one, the top of the top  
With the mention of vandalism he felt anger drop  
Surrounded by wreckage it was hard to deny  
Although the feeling of unfairness was still standing by

With the family reassured and it all tidied up  
And Santa in handcuffs in the back of the truck  
The police were surprised he was still trying to deceive  
No amount of explaining willing to believe

Back at the station they were leading him through  
He wondered in distraction what he ought to do  
The station was bare and lacking in cheer  
It was a terrible end to a terrible year

With the door standing open he looked into the cell  
It looked like a scene straight out of hell  
Three other Santa’s were sat looking down and depressed  
And slightly embarrassed at the sight of Old Hest

Slamming the door and turning the key  
He looked through the shutter his eyes lacking glee  
_“I’ve another of you to add to this throng  
__Though his outfits quite shoddy, you’ll all get along”_

_“If it weren’t for you lot I’d be home warm and snug  
_   
_Giving my children their gifts and a hug  
_   
_Instead we’re all here, settled in tight  
_   
_So Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.”_

**Author's Note:**

> My policy on permissions for use of my work is that you don't in fact need my permission to make art, record podfic, remix, critique, translate, save, share or otherwise reuse and interact with anything I've done. I'd love it if you'd share a link with me when you're done.
> 
> Any comments are also welcome – I'd love to hear what worked for you and (truly) what didn't or about those really obvious typos that my mind can't see anymore. If you don't want to comment publicly, feel free to e-mail me. Everything and anything will be loved and cherished.


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